Dosage
by yashkonu
Summary: Weiss finds Blake's stash while cleaning up. Warning for drug use, kinda.


Blake had heard Weiss's rapidly approaching footsteps coming a long way off, but still jumped when their girlfriend angrily slammed a hand onto their desk.

" _Dust,_ Weiss, what a-" Blake cut off abruptly when they say what, exactly, Weiss was so upset about. The white-knuckled hand on Blake's desk was clutching a tiny glass bottle with a label which read, in Blake's distinctive scrawl, ' _Do not open.'_ From the cloying smell already beginning to fill the room, the label had been ignored. Oh no.

"Blake, might I ask why _this_ was with your things?" Weiss was livid. You could tell by her carefully _not_ angry tone of voice.

Blake did their level best to sound aloof. "Essential oils. Good for blocking out unfortunate smells." It didn't seem to be working, judging by the way Weiss's already withering glare intensified at the (admittedly lame) excuse.

" _Catnip_ , Blake. Don't think I don't know what this does to cat Faunus. If you don't have a _very_ good explanation for me Blake I _swear-_ "

"Nightmares." Weiss let out a tense breath, her expression slipping from fury to something gentler. "I know it's been a long time but I still get them." Blake set aside their pencil and notebook, leveling a thousand-yard-stare on their hands. "Some things don't leave you."

Weiss sighed, half from concern and half from exasperation. "Blake… I understand that. I do. But I hardly think _controlled substances_ are the best coping mechanism you could come up with. Perhaps you could bring the matter up with your girlfriend…?" She arched a snow-white eyebrow impressively and Blake hung their head.

"You're probably right. If it makes you feel any better, the dosage is very low. All I do is loosen the ca-" they paused. The smell was getting stronger. "Weiss, did you…?" Oh no. There was a hairline crack on the side of the bottle, and a single, fat drop of oil was gathering atop one of Weiss's fingers. "Weiss." Blake's tone was urgent as they eyed the crack pointedly. The gravity of the situation must have gone clear over Weiss's head. She mumbled a disinterested "oops" and idly wiped the stray drop on the sleeve of her pajamas.

"It's fine. I was planning to dispose of this anyw- Wait, what did you say the usual dosage was?" It was starting to sink in. Blake's eyes were dilating visibly.

"Usually." Their breathing was turning slow and heavy. "Usually, I just, uh…" They shook their head. Weiss smelled _so good_. It was all they could do to sit still; speaking was a trial. "I just, loosen the cap a… a half turn or so and…" they trailed off until a slightly worried Weiss cleared her throat pointedly. _How did she smell so good?_ "And… leave it next to my bed for a few minutes."

Weiss groaned. "You're telling me the usual dosage is a few minutes of fumes… so the cracked bottle and the drop I just… wiped on my… shirt…" Blake's irises had all but gone, and there was a soft rumbling emanating from their chest. "Oh dust. Blake? You in there?"

Blake's voice was low and husky, almost lost in the building purr. "Hmm?" They blinked lazily. Weiss could _see_ every ounce of tension drain from them. "Sorry, I… did you say something?" Regret failed to describe what Weiss was feeling. Knowing or not, she was now stuck with an _exceedingly_ intoxicated Blake, for however long the ca _aaaand Blake was tackling her_. When Weiss opened her eyes she was staring at the ceiling – until Blake eclipsed it, their long hair falling to frame Weiss's face. "You just… smell really good…" They had crawled up to straddle their girlfriend, staring with glassy, unfocused eyes. "Really… really…" The rest was lost in an incoherent mumble into Weiss's collarbone.

"Blake. You are _clearly_ not in _any_ frame of mind to be displaying such _brash_ affect- _Blake Belladonna what are you doing with your hips you stop that this instant."_ They were… _undulating._ It was making it rather difficult for Weiss to think clearly.

Weiss brought a hand to Blake's head and rubbed her fingers gently along their ears. Ordinarily, the effect it had on them was akin that of a blowtorch on a wax sculpture. _Now,_ though, Blake's eyes rolled back and the constant rumble ramped up as they ground against their girlfriend more fervently than ever. Their face was more flushed than Weiss had ever seen it (except maybe that one time Yang had "visited" Nora across the hall when the rest of JNPR had been out of town. When Yang had come back, Blake had gone an impressive shade of red, and shoved Yang bodily into the shower. Apparently the smell had spoken volumes to Blake's keen nose.) and _that_ put a mischievous grin on Weiss's face. Calm, quiet, reserved Blake was melting on Weiss chest and all too literally under her thumb. She may as well have bit of fun with the situation.

She dipped her hand down to scratch firmly at the base of Blake's ears. Something to do with the transition between fur and hair made the area direly sensitive. Blake's entire frame shuddered at the attention and a moan that could empty a nunnery broke through their constant purring. Oh _really_? Weiss was beginning to reconsider disposing of Blake's stash.

Blake started slightly at the sound of an _alarmingly_ sultry moan. A dense haze lay over their thoughts, but the sound had been enough to draw them out of the trance somewhat. "Weiss?" they murmured the name, pushing themself up from where they had been laying on her chest. "Why are you on the floor?" The look Weiss gave them could have carved steel, but for some reason Blake just couldn't manage to worry.

"Something to do with you tackling me, you _utter_ dolt."

What? That didn't make any sense. Why would they tackle her when she smelled _so good_ _oh that was probably it._ Through the impossibly think fog afflicting their mind, Blake somehow managed to put two and two together, and cringed slightly. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh_." Why was Weiss blushing? Oh, and what was that moan a minute ago? Had they… Their already unstable train of thought detonated on the tracks when Weiss scratched again at the base of one dark-furred ear. _Dust_ , it felt good. Like liquid electricity, pouring down through them from head to curling toes. It occurred to Blake, as their breath hitched and they bit their lip to stifle a needy groan, that the moan they had heard earlier had _probably not been Weiss_.

Weiss, mercifully, settled for coaxing her partner up and into their shared bed. She joined them shortly, after _very_ carefully sealing and stowing the cracked bottle on Blake's desk. The pair passed the night in a contended silence, one lent an intimate texture by the constant droning purr still pouring from Blake's chest. It only took a few minutes of Weiss's fingers gently ghosting down Blake's back to lull them both into a deep, dreamless slumber. As she slipped away, Weiss made a mental note to have a conversation with Blake – once they had sobered up, of course – about catnip oil prices and full-body massages.


End file.
